Day 1,959, Quasi-Quarantine: Boarding-School Misfits Deal With Love And Grief In "Looking For Alaska"

 

“I lit a cigarette and spit into the creek. ‘You can’t just make me different and then leave,’ I said out loud to her. ‘Because I was fine before, Alaska. I was fine with just me and last words and school friends, and you can’t just make me different and then die.’ For she had embodied the Great Perhaps – she had proved to me that it was worth it to leave behind my minor life for grander maybes, and now she was gone and with her my faith in perhaps.”

John Green's remarkable coming-of-age story is at turns wistful, hysterical, painful, and thought-provoking. "Looking for Alaska" documents a small group of outsiders trying to find who they're trying to become at a posh Alabama boarding school.

“No matter how miserably hot it got, I resolved, I would sleep in my clothes every night at the Creek, feeling – probably for the first time in my life – the fear and excitement of living in a place where you never know what’s going to happen or when.”

I did have a quibble: The Thanksgiving week that Miles and Alaska were able to spend alone went by way too quickly. So much more was possible there that it felt distinctly like a missed opportunity not to let Miles and Alaska experience a little bit more together.

“She had the kind of eyes that predisposed you to supporting her every endeavor.”

The gutting loss of one of their friends marks the midpoint of the book, along with a shift toward something of a detective story. Green draws from his own experiences, but infuses "Looking for Alaska" with a bit of magic, beautifully capturing those teen moments when all seems alternately possible -- and awful.

“And if Alaska took her own life, that is the hope I wish I could have given here. Forgetting her mother, failing her mother and her friend and herself - those are awful things, but she did not need to fold into herself and self-destruct. Those awful things are survivable, because we are as indestructible as we believe ourselves as to be. When adults say, ‘Teenagers think they are invincible’ with that sly, stupid smile on their faces, they don’t know how right they are. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.

“So I know she forgives me, just as I forgive her. Thomas Edison’s last words were: ‘It’s very beautiful over there.’ I don’t know where there is, but I believe it’s somewhere, and I hope it’s beautiful.”

Day 1,953, Quasi-Quarantine: "Montpelier Parade" Offers Stark, Oppressive View Of Multiple Dublin Identities

 

“You never understood how that was with people, that they could tell you all kinds of things without saying anything.”

The seedy and privileged aspects of Dublin clash in this remarkable debut novel. Karl Geary relies on second-person narrative to depict the stark and devastating loneliness of Sonny. 

A vivid first two chapters really sketches the characters and sets the tone for the remainder of the novel. A core tension for the reader involves the question of whether Sonny will ever stand up for himself, with the answer provided along the way -- as well as in an ironic ending.

“Your mother. Not so many years ago you would race home to her after school just to know she was still alive and hadn’t left you in that house of men, without a soft thing in the world.”

With a detached father (I selfishly wanted to know more about this man), overwhelmed mother, and nameless brothers, Sonny is almost literally a stranger in his own house, and he looks for companionship in Sharon and Vera, polar opposites.

“The dashboard lit some of his face, showed his age, and added more. Some years later, when he died, he would be buried without you ever touching that face.”

The author explores Sonny's occasionally disturbing relationship to sex, his inability to accept Sharon, and his hopeless pursuit of Vera. "Montpelier Parade" leaves questions unanswered in the most beautiful of ways, creating a gut punch of a short novel that will stick with you well beyond the reading.

Another Geary novel, "Juno Loves Legs," was a "Narrow Miss" in the 2023 Scooties, and you might expect to see "Montpelier Parade" finishing high in the Scooties again this year.

“You could taste the salt at your lips and held your breath for as long as you could, and for a moment you were between worlds, before being thrown from the water, fighting for that precious air.”

Day 1,950, Quasi-Quarantine: Meticulous, Dense "On Air" Can Be Difficult To Absorb

 

“‘What’s advocacy and what’s not?’ she asked. ‘It’s very easy to present both sides and let it go at that. Maybe you become biased because you did all the research and you could come to no other conclusion.’” ~Barbara Newman

Steve Oney's intensely researched tome relies heavily on interviews with scores of former and current NPR employees. As a result, "On Air" can feel rather dense, with attributions occasionally handled clunkily and the prose bogging down with incessant clauses.

The story itself, however, is sublime and well told. The organization's perseverance through a litany of setbacks and obstacles -- continuing to this day -- is inspiring for anyone who values precise, passionate journalism.

“I think the fundamental advantage of narrative is that you can create a context where it’s possible to imagine being someone different from yourself.” ~Ira Glass

Oney's work serves as a timely reminder of the vital presence NPR holds in our culture and in a democracy under siege. While he underplays the role that government plays in undercutting and undermining the organization's efforts, the efforts put into articulating its origin story are instructive, important, and invaluable as the very nature of independent journalism becomes a daily question.

“‘The job of the reporter is to listen to all these distortions and pick up a little bit here, a little bit there. The other stuff you discard. The writer’s job is to search for truth in a world of deception and lies.’” ~Loren Jenkins

Day 1,945, Quasi-Quarantine: The Triangle Takes Center Stage In "A Really Strange And Wonderful Time"

 

“Vertical structures are about power, after all. Horizontal ones are about community.”

Meticulously researched, "A Really Strange and Wonderful Time" evokes a memorable creative era in Chapel Hill and the Triangle. Tom Maxwell -- part of the "scenius" himself -- relied on extensive interviews, a fabulous memory, and first-person accounts to bring this momentous time to life.

Chock full of tales of short-lived bands and collaborations and the steady presence of Cat's Cradle, Merge Records, and other community pillars, this book leans hard on nostalgia and what-ifs -- but a resounding lack of regret. Music is eternal, and Maxwell's account is a welcome reminder in a time of cultural upheaval.

“‘The artist-as-midwife idea is very simple and useful if you want to make art versus being an artist,’ John [Enisslin] said. ‘Every work is a compromise between intention and medium. The less important component is the intention. It is completely disposable at the point the material comes to life. Then, all the practice in the medium and the experience with intuition is there to help as you plop this thing into the world as smoothly as possible, whatever is it, itself. No artist should ask, ‘What am I trying to say here?’ That’s useless and profane. It’s not a code to be figured out. It’s a thing already. Get out of the way. It’s not about you.’”

Day 1,938, Quasi-Quarantine: "Creation Lake" Suffers From A Flat Protagonist, Sinking Promising Premise

 

“People might claim to believe in this or that, but in the four a.m. version of themselves, most possess no fixed idea on how society should be organized.

…

“What is it people encounter in their stark and solitary four a.m. self? What is inside them?

“Not politics. There are no politics inside of people.

“The truth of the person, under all the layers and guises, the significations of group and type, the quiet truth, underneath the noise of opinions and ‘beliefs,’ is a substance that is pure and stubborn and consistent. It is a hard, white salt.

“This salt is the core. The four a.m. reality of being.”

"Creation Lake" had a few elements that would appear to lend themselves to a tremendous story: an existential hermit living in a cave in France, a globe-trotting mercenary charged with infiltrating protest movements, and the overarching conflict between capitalism and individualism.

“Revolution, which back in 1968 he had believed was possible, he now understood to be foreclosed. The world ruled by capital would not be dismantled. Instead, it had to be left behind.”

However, Rachel Krushner struggled to help these variables coalesce into a coherent story. The first proper dialogue takes place more than 40 pages into the book, and a lack of insight into the inner nature of the protagonist renders most of the tale surface level.

For a few reasons, I was somewhat surprised that this book was shortlisted for the Booker Prize a year ago. I ended up wanting and expecting much more out of the work.

“ … He had the sexual energy of a grandmother with bone density issues.”

Despite the presence of a strong female character, there was a difficult-to-parse scene where she was essentially sexually assaulted in public on a bench near a lake, then quickly succumbed to a random blowjob with this stranger, which included her even swallowing a load.

At times, Sadie demonstrates a lot of agency, while at others she appears to just allow events to unfold without her assent or engagement. "Creation Lake" follows much the same path: It can be difficult to determine when it's trying to make a statement and when it is simply meandering through the European countryside.

“But why would you want to survive mass death? What would be the purpose of life, if life were reduced to a handful of armed pessimists hoarding canned foods and fearing each other? In a bunker, you cannot hear the human community in the earth, the deep cistern of voices, the lake of our creation.”

Day 1,932, Quasi-Quarantine: Still Processing Everything That Alaska And The Yukon Had To Share And Reveal

 

The seals near Dawes Glacier were so serene and peaceful. We almost felt bad for interrupting their nap.

Glacier calving is a moving (and depressing) thing to witness.

The dog-sledding portion of the trip in Juneau was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The resonant blue of some of the icebergs were truly breath-taking, especially against the backdrop of the persistent gray-white of Alaska's inner passage.

A bear? Yes, a fucking bear. Just getting his dandelion on.

So many more pictures and memories to process. 

What a trip.